Dying to Heal
by Minerva77
Summary: Running from a troubled past, Bella had reached a point of desperation; ready, willing, and able to take her own life when fate stepped in, sending her angel with no halo who bore no wings, and smelled of whiskey and cologne. However, somewhere along the way, it is Bella who saves Edward. Together, they both heal, and learn to love again.
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1**

**~ Prologue ~**

_It was a moment of desperation. A moment of seeking drastic change, _

_even if that meant dying for the sake of healing. . ._

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The howling winds were angry, cruel, and lacking all mercy. It was as if there were a thousand tiny knives stabbing into my exposed flesh. I was scared, and alone, but tired and determined. It had taken me a very long time to work up the courage to reach this point.

"You can do this." I willed myself closer to the edge, looking down at the shapeless forms of water below.

Much like the wind, the waters too, seemed angry. They were harshly beating against the concrete peers as liquid hands were reaching out to me, calling my name, and compelling me to join them in the blackness— the nothing. Lightening flashed across the roaring sky, and for a split second, the entire forest lit up, revealing the multicolored hillside that had taken over most of the evergreen.

Panting for every breath, I looked back to the shapeless forms below, so cold, so dark... yet so inviting. I knew had to do this.

_It has to be this way._ I thought as a single tear temporally warmed my icy cheek.

Was I some sort of crazy? Perhaps I was— perhaps I always had been. I just wanted it to be over. I was at the end of my rope, and all that was left inside of me, was a lifetime of bad choices, an empty heart, and a soul where fear had taken up a permanent residence.

My fate was decided, my mind was made up, and there was no turning back. "I need you now, more than ever," I choked out into the unfriendly evening air, staring directly into the heavens.

Like so many times before, it was only me with screams of no reply. I hated the silence; it always had a way of screaming the truth— the reminder that I was alone.

"Answer me!" I yelled to the top of my voice as huge raindrops began to fall from the sky, making the cold winds all the more unbearable.

"I don't care anymore," I seethed, struggling to keep my eyes open. "You know that, you know my heart, right?"

Again, no answer; only the wind and the rain thrashing into me as if God himself was willing me to do this.

Tightly closing my eyes, I released one hand from the frosty railings, adjusting my feet on the edge. My body leaned forward, toward the icy waters below. I could see his warm brown eyes in the back of my mind. His perfect smile danced in my head, and I couldn't help but to smile myself despite of me standing on that old bridge, ready to end my own life.

"He was all I had." I used my free hand to wipe away the mingled tears and rain. "And you took him from me." I angrily gripped the railing so hard with my other hand, I knew my knuckles were going to burst. My lips trembled at both the coldness and the nerve I was willing from within.

"You can do this, Bella." I reminded myself.

I came to this particular bridge because it was abandoned and in the middle of nowhere. The original plan was to come to the bridge and jump without a second thought. However, now that I was there, my mind was flooded with fear and endless questions:

_Would there be pain?_

_What if I were to survive?_

_Was there really an afterlife— a heaven and a hell, and would I be punished for taking my own life?_

_Was I trading one hell for another hell?_

I could handle the physical pain, or so I told myself; it was the emotional pain destroying me. It was the emotional pain that brought me to this point of desperation.

"I gotta stop thinking." I finally let go of the railing, solely depending on balance. "It's now or never."

I swallowed all doubt, blocked out every thought, and reminded myself of how close to authentic peace and true freedom I was— I could almost taste it. Closing my eyes once again, the strong winds blew my heavy, wet hair in every direction, stinging my face.

It didn't matter where I landed; it didn't matter what would happen to my fleshly body, or whether or not I would ever be found and given a proper burial. Nothing mattered anymore, because I only desired the unknown— whatever was on the other side of this life. . . and in the blink of an eye, my frozen body was airborne, and I smiled in the face of death.

"Take my hand." A raspy voice yelled out to me causing my panicked eyes to open when I felt fire against ice.

The rain continued to fall, forcing my eyes to shut again and again, no matter how hard I willed them to stay open. His fiery-touch was consuming me further as it went from my arm to my shoulder, then to my back and finally pulling me back onto the bridge, back to life, back to hell.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, struggling to break free, but the saving hands were too strong. Before I knew it, I was completely over the railing— utterly saved.

"Why?" I cried as I buried my face into the brick wall that was this man's chest. "You have no idea what you've done. You've ruined everything."

He didn't say a word. He pulled me into his arms, cradling me like a small child, and I helplessly welcomed the warmth of his body. I could feel the rhythm of his trembling heart beating like a drum as he held me tighter.

_Did I do it? Is this the other side? Did I complete the mission, and perhaps he is an angel?_ I quietly mused trying to take in everything that had just happened.

I quietly laid in his lap, trying to force my eyes open. I needed to steal a glimpse of this angel. He had a strong jawline, slightly covered in stubble. He smelled like whiskey and cologne, and he had the most angelic, ice-blue eyes I had ever seen.

I had decided this was definitely the other side, and this man was definitely an angel. Although, he wasn't wearing white, and he had no halo, nor did he have wings, his eyes were either too blue, or too clear, I couldn't decide, but either way, he had to be an angel.

We were frozen in time, and all I could do was stare. The man's face was beautiful, simply flawless. His hair was soaked, making it appear darker, but lighter colors of reddish-blonde and bronze locks peeked from the wet, disheveled mess.

I was so confused— in and out of consciousness. Was I really in the afterlife? Or maybe I was stuck in between worlds, or entered into another world altogether?

_Angel or not, this person is still a stranger_. I reminded myself, and being the rebellious person, I often am, I began to fight, struggling to break free.

"Let me go!" I said through clenched teeth, but it was useless, because he tightened his arms around me.

I eventually grew tired of struggling as my strength ceased into the warmth of his body— so delightful, so alluring, I finally relaxed against him. Completely surrendered into his arms, I trembled as I curled even closer toward him. Draping one arm securely over his shoulder, I used my other hand to tightly grip his fleece-wool-coat.

The angel with no halo who bore no wings, didn't say a word; he only held me in his arms. However, his silence was speaking in some unknown way, assuring me I was safe.

I felt the angel stand up with me still in his arms. I had never felt so warm or so protected. He was now walking, but where to? I had no idea where we were going, and in a way, I didn't care; my flesh was exhausted and the strength to keep my eyes open was fading.

When we came to a stop, I looked up into the angel's eyes to find something in his gaze I hadn't seen in a long time— compassion? Mercy?

"You're going to be okay." He finally spoke as he pushed a lock of cold, damp hair from my face.

I smiled at his sincere words, because for the first time, in a really long time, I believed those words. I felt something inside of my shifting, engulfing me to the very core of who I was. Right there, written in his eyes was a truth— a truth so vivid, I grabbed onto it as if it was my lifeline.

"I know," I said as the thunder loudly interrupted and lightning flashed in various places across the now black sky. . . I closed my eyes.

* * *

I guess I'm back... for how long, I have no idea. I've had an on again/off again relationship with Fanfiction since 2009. I usually complete every story I write, save "Friends, Lovers, and Good Coffee," I have no idea what happened there. I fell in love with the storyline, had a wonderful beta, and was spewing chapters left and right, and then everything simply stopped. My life completely changed in 2015, while in the middle of writing "Friends, Lovers, and Good Coffee", and I learned some very valuable life lessons; I think God took me in certain directions in order to change me for the better. I may, one day, share that story, but as for "Friends, Lovers, and Good Coffee", I will not remove it from the site, because I do plan to finish it... Someday... I swear!

"Dying to Heal" has been posted on Fanfiction before, along with "First Kiss", "Glimpse Into Heaven", and "Southern Bella". I removed most of my stories in order to revamp them.

I am not currently working with a beta, but I will edit my guts out. As before, I do welcome all constructive criticism, opinions, and ideas. However, I don't like smartasses who think they know it all, or who think of themselves as better than others. I write; writing is what I do. It may not always be perfect, but I enjoy it, and this shit is free. So, if you do decide to leave a review, please drop a name and/or contact information, and my inbox is always open :)

This particular story is rated MA...

Thank You,

Minerva77


	2. The Cabin

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**Chapter 2**

In a cabin tucked inside the Appalachians, mid-November of 2000.

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I had never really given much thought to life, _after the bridge. _I knew there was the possibility of surviving, but I assumed the angry waters would swallow me and that would be the end. Being saved was not part of the plan; yet here I was, and I had no idea where I was; that had me paralyzed with fear. Even so, wherever I was, I did find some comfort in knowing I wasn't alone; the angel from the bridge was with me. I not only felt his presence, but while in and out of consciousness, I saw him standing over me, and I distinctly remember him holding my hand. I wanted to speak to him, but for the life of me, I couldn't wake up.

There was a fireplace nearby because I could feel its heavenly warmth washing over my entire body. I remember tossing and turning, the smell of freshly washed, clean sheets, and a thick, burgundy quilt; I sensed the quilt was homemade, perhaps made by someone special.

"_Can you tell me your name?" the angel asked, but I was too groggy to respond._

I felt protected with having the angel there. He was taking care of me, and I kept thinking, I hadn't felt that kind of security in a really long time. It was the weirdest, most bizarre thing though— being able to think while sleeping. It was almost like I was under heavy sedation, and so much so, everything felt like a dream, but at the same time, very much real.

There were moments when I was unsure whether I was dead or alive, or perhaps lost some place where heaven and earth collide. But as time passed, it became clearer, I was still alive, and the man I thought to be an angel, was only a human— a _stranger_; a complete stranger I knew nothing about, and I was alone with him, unable to wake up. I had to keep reminding myself, _this man saved my life; he was taking care of me; bad people don't do that._

I was awakened by the sound of footsteps, but still, I couldn't open my eyes just yet. I then heard something heavy being placed on the floor. The fire was becoming louder and hotter. I could tell every time he added logs; it would become smothering hot until the logs would somewhat burn down. Though, this particular time, it was more than I could bear, and no matter how many times I'd kick the quilt off of me, the angel— stranger, would place it back over me.

In the wake of being trapped inside my own body and mind, I felt myself returning back to reality more and more. I was finally able to kick one of my legs free from the bulky quilt, and eventually, I was able to open my eyes.

I tried not to make any sudden moves while taking in my surroundings. I realized I was in a cabin of some sort. Every wall was made of logs, stained with a light-oak finish. Mounted deer heads hang like trophies throughout the entire room, and a full body mount of a black bear sat on the floor near the front door. Despite the dead animals on display like something inside a museum, the cabin was cozy, even modern, considering there was a huge wooden entertainment center along the wall on the other side of the room with two matching curio cabinets built on each end.

I tried to make out the faces in the framed photos displayed along the mantle over the stone fireplace, but there wasn't enough light in the room. It was already dark outside, and the only light was the glow from the fireplace and a small gleam coming from the far corner, opposite side of the entertainment center.

The far corner… where I saw the angel from the bridge, now a stranger, and my heart felt like it was going to beat straight through the walls of my chest. He was beautiful— still angelic; even if he wasn't a real angel. He was sitting on a cream-colored, cabriole couch, holding papers. He was wearing a flannel button down shirt, opened, revealing his smooth chest and muscular abdomen and a pair of faded jeans with his bare feet propped upon the coffee table directly in front of him.

I openly and boldly stared, watching his every move. I couldn't decide whether I was angry with him, or grateful to him for saving my life. On the bridge, I was angry. I had no desire to be saved by this man; however, now, in this moment, with him across the room, I felt different.

He looked serious as he sat fiddling with the papers, even frustrated at times. I watched as his long, slender fingers flipped through the pages, and the way he'd squint his eyes as he quickly read portions of whatever was written on the pages. Often, he would take his hand through his light-brown, disheveled hair, pushing untamed locks away from his face. He would loudly sigh as he fought against the creases in the papers, struggling to keep them open.

Suddenly, he sat up straight, kicking his feet to the floor as he grabbed a pen and scribbled something on the bottom of a few pages. He then allowed the papers to fold into their creases as he annoyingly tossed them, along with the pen, on the coffee table. Then he leaned back, exhaling loudly while running both hands over his face and through his hair.

His sudden reactions to the papers had me petrified. So, I closed my eyes, pretending to still be asleep. I could sense he was still irritated. I tried to stay calm, but my throat felt swollen, and my mouth and lips were painfully dry.

The longer I pretended to be asleep, the harder it was to swallow. In an attempt to quietly clear my aching throat, I knew I had failed when I looked up to find piercing ice-blue eyes burning into mine. The intensity of the moment was so intimidating, I wanted to scream in frustration. Instead, I tightly curled myself into the quilt, pulling it up under my chin and wishing I could just disappear.

_Was he angry with me?_ I thought to myself, holding my breath_. It has to be an inconvenience having me here, and considering how he found me... of course, he's angry._

The crackling fire and the silence suddenly seemed too loud, too out of control— much like my heart. I wanted to cry, but I held it in.

"You're awake." His gravelly voice didn't seem angry, and that made me feel less nervous as I clutched my throat. "Here." He took a glass of water from the end table beside the sofa-bed, handing it to me. "I knew you'd probably be thirsty. You've been asleep for over twenty-four hours. I checked…"

I unexpectedly sat up and handed him the now empty glass, cutting him off as he spoke. "I-I have to get out of here!" The plan was to stand up, but as soon as my feet hit the floor, the entire room started spinning.

"Easy." I felt the enveloping heat from his touch as he tried to help me balance myself.

I didn't take my eyes off of his while allowing him to help me. I was suckered into an inner debate between my heart and mind— my heart encouraging me calm down while my mind was prompting me to leave. Then I noticed my clothes had been changed. I chose to panic. "Don't touch me!" I pushed him away, and he instantly released me and backed away.

"Did you see me naked?" I glared at him. My own face brazenly displaying both my fear and discomfort.

He held his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. "I can explain. Please, just calm down, okay?"

"I'm scared," I honestly told him, focused on the door while I orchestrated possible plans of running inside my head.

He gradually walked toward the fireplace, away from the front door. Silently telling me I was free to run. "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be scared." He looked at me sympathetically. "I had to change your clothes. Your body was so cold. I was concerned about your feet and hands. I've been keeping a check for signs of frostbite."

"You were holding my hand…" I remembered him standing over me holding a phone between his ear and shoulder as he gently clutched my hand, rubbing my fingertips.

"I thought they may have been frostbitten."

I held my hands out in front of me, closely examining them. Other than being extremely dry, they looked fine. My eyes darted back up to him. "Where am I?"

"You're in my cabin." He awkwardly paused. "Not far from the bridge."

_The bridge_… I had chosen that particular bridge because I thought it had been abandoned. I never dreamed anyone would find me there, but he did. I trembled at the image of myself standing on the edge of the bridge as the cold rain pounded my face. I remembered the black, shapeless waters calling out to me. The craving of death consumed me, but now… life felt comparatively significant again. I had no idea why; it just did.

"But why did you bring me here?" I tried to sound brave, but my voice fell flat.

"I was going to take you to the hospital, but the main bridge was flooded," he explained as he buttoned his shirt, covering his exposed flesh. "I had no choice but to bring you here. My cousin, Alice, is a nurse. I called her, and she told me I needed to change you out of your wet clothes and keep a check on your feet and hands. I didn't do anything to you. It wasn't like that… If that's what you're thinking."

Of course, the thought had entered my mind. But as he spoke, I thought back to the rhythm of his trembling heart when he held me on the bridge, and for whatever reason, I believed him. There was something about this stranger, something in his eyes, that made me feel safe; I knew he was telling me the truth.

"I thought you were…" I swallowed the rest of that statement in hopes of not sounding completely unstable— more unstable than he probably already thought I was.

"You thought I were going to hurt you?" he asked quickly.

"I was confused; I'm still confused, but I wasn't scared on the bridge… not after you got there." I nervously looked away, but I desperately needed him to know. "I-I thought you were an angel."

"An angel?" He shook his head as he faintly laughed, almost to himself. "I'm a lot of things, but an angel most definitely isn't one of them."

"You saved me." I reminded him.

"I couldn't just stand back and let you…" He ran his hand through his hair as a small frown formed on his lips. "What brought you to that bridge?"

"I thought the bridge was abandoned, and no one would find me there," I answered only the surface of his question, ignoring the depth thereof.

"But why did you want to jump?" he bluntly asked anyway, but with concern in his voice.

I avoided his question as I shuffled around under the big quilt. "Is the main bridge still flooded?"

"It is," he answered. "I checked this morning— backed up drain pipes, and now, according to the news, we're supposed to get a big snowstorm which could lead to even more flooding. We're going to be here for a while."

"How long?" I asked.

"I have no idea. According to the weather, possibly ten to twelve inches of snow." The entire atmosphere changed when he tenderly smiled, carefully walking toward me with his hand extended. "I'm Edward, and you're…"

At first, I said nothing as I blatantly gazed at his hand, instantly noticing two small scars near his knuckles. I briefly wondered where he had gotten the scars as I also noticed his nails were bitten down to the quick.

"Bella," I finally said, my eyes finding his.

I slightly jumped when his flesh touched mine. I felt an unknown emotion pulling from deep down inside of me, automatically reminding me of the comfort and warmth I felt on the bridge when he told me I was going to be okay. I didn't want to let go of his hand, until I realized I wasn't letting go, and then I quickly released his hand.

My heart was pounding as I bashfully sat on the edge of the bed, watching the flames wildly dance in the fireplace. I could feel Edward watching me, but he didn't say a word. I had never wanted to read someone's mind as badly as I wanted to read his in that very moment.

As if I couldn't feel anymore self-conscious, my stomach started viciously growling. Considering the circumstances, I hadn't eaten in a couple days. I mean, when planning your own death, food is kind of the furthest thing from your mind.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, and I felt embarrassment all over again, refusing to answer him. "Bella, I told you, we're gonna be here for a while. You have to eat. Do you like chicken?"

He sat down next to me, and I shyly nodded. "Chicken is fine."

"Stay here and rest, and I'll get dinner started," he said as he walked into the kitchen, leaving me alone.

My eyes curiously went back to the fireplace mantle. I wanted to see who the people were in the framed photos. Very carefully, I stood up. I felt weak, but this time I didn't get dizzy or lose my balance. So, I cautiously made my way over to the fireplace.

There were various photos lined along the mantle, covered in a light dusting. There was a photo of Edward in a black cap and gown at his graduation. An older, petite woman with gray hair stood beside of him; she had the same clear-blue eyes as Edward, and she seemed very proud. There was a smaller photo of Edward standing beside of an old mustang. The same older lady was standing with him, but there were two other people in the photo as well. Behind the glass of a silver frame was a family gathering of some sort, perhaps a cookout. There were several people in the photo, but Edward's head was thrown back in laughter and his arms were extended out as two small children ran toward him.

At the very end of the mantle, I saw a picture frame lying face down. I curiously picked it up, noticing there was no dust on the glass, only fingerprints. The photo was of a woman. She was young and her blonde hair came just below her ears, appearing as both curly and stringy. Her downturned, sharp, green eyes were uneven; it was almost as if her eyes were smirking at me. There was something about her that made me feel uneasy.

Whoever she was, I had no desire to look at her any longer. Just as I was about to place the photo exactly back how I found it, Edward walked in and startled me. When I jumped, the cherry-oak frame went tumbling to the concrete step in front of the fireplace, completely shattering the glass. When I looked down, I saw the woman's smirky eyes and thin-lipped grin staring back at me from behind broken glass.

"Edward, I-I am so sorry." I stumbled over my words as I immediately hit my knees and started picking up the mess.

"Bella, no!" He yelled, and I froze like a statue. "I'll clean that up." His voice softened.

"I'll get you a new frame," I told him as he knelt down beside me, placing the glass into one pile.

Edward picked up the broken frame and vaguely looked at the photo inside. I couldn't really tell, but I sensed sadness. "You don't have to do that, Bella. I really needed to throw this out anyway."

"Who is she?" I asked as I started putting the glass into a small waste paper basket beside the fireplace.

He shook his head as he tossed the photo, frame and all, into the fire. "Nobody."

"I had no right to touch your belongings, Edward." I thickly swallowed, putting my head down. "I am so sorry."

"Really, Bella, it's fine." He gently placed his index finger under my chin, willing me to look up at him. "Don't feel bad. I was planning on cleaning this week and getting rid of that picture, along with a few others, was on the agenda."

"I can help you," I told him as we both stood up.

"Help me?" he questioned.

"I can help you clean," I explained.

"You don't have to do that, Bella."

"I want to. It can be a way of repaying you for your kindness and hospitality… and besides, like you said, we're gonna be stuck here together for a while. I wanna do my part in helping out."

Edward tilted his head, smiling as he walked back into the kitchen and like a lost puppy, I tagged along behind him.

"You can help me clean," he said at last. "Not today, though. You need to rest and build up your strength."

"Thank you." I sat down at the kitchen table as I took in everything around me.

Edward's kitchen was modern with newer, stainless steel appliances. Newer oak cabinets hung along the wooden walls. The entire kitchen was decorated with rustic tin cans, mason jars, and sunflowers, all complete with black and white plaid curtains and a sunflower vine across the top.

"Your home is beautiful," I told him. "I love the colors in here. They're so bright… and happy."

Edward curled his lip as he glanced around. "And girlie."

"Not really." I disagreed.

"I think this place could use a change myself," he said as he walked toward the counter where he already had chicken slowly frying in a small electric skillet beside the stove.

A long stretch of awkward silence filled the room. I was never really good with people skills, or striking up conversations. I guess I was always one who kept to herself, only partaking in small chit chat when others approached me. However, for some reason that was beyond me, I wanted to know this stranger… Edward.

"I'm really sorry about the frame." It was my voice that interrupted the silence, and I suddenly wished I had remained quiet, but to my own surprise, I continued. "Why did you burn her photo?"

A part of me felt like I was invading his privacy, but another part of me, unafraid—very unlike me—wanted to know why he tossed the photo in the fire. Maybe it was her eyes that had me curious. Maybe it was because I sensed sadness when he held the photo.

"I told you, Bella, I was planning on throwing that picture out anyway," he said as he peeled potatoes, throwing each one into the sink as he peeled it.

"She hurt you?" My thoughtless statement came out in the form of a question.

Edward left that question hanging as he quietly washed and cut potatoes before placing them into a pot on the stove. I could tell he was uncomfortable, and I regretted mentioning the photo. I had no right to pry into this man's personal life.

"I'm sorry," I said in a low voice. "I didn't mean to pry."

When he turned to face me, his expression was unreadable. I held my breath as he walked toward the table with two small glasses in hand, sitting down across from me. I watched attentively while he reached across the table, dragging a purple felt-like bag with gold tasseled drawstrings toward him. His jaw clenched as he poured the whiskey into the glasses, pushing one toward me and keeping one for himself.

"Since we're gonna be here for a while, we might as well get to know another one." He finally spoke, holding my gaze. "She's my wife."

"Where is she?" I now felt I needed to know. I was possibly in this woman's home.

"Good question." His mouth pressed into a hard line as he folded his arms on the table in front of him. "Last I heard, she was living in South Carolina with her new boyfriend, Phillip."

"Oh," was all I said as I glanced out the window. "It's snowing."

Edward looked over his shoulder toward the window. "It's a wet snow too. That'll be heavy on the power lines." He quickly stood up and walked toward the back door. "Oh, Bella…"

I stood to my feet, but before I could join him, he was walking back toward me. "The back porch is closed in. The washer and dryer are out there. When I changed your clothes…" He paused, leaning himself against the kitchen table, embarrassed? I didn't know what to say, so, he continued. "I threw your wet clothes in the wash with mine. You have clean clothes if you wanna… shower after dinner or whatever."

"Thank you," I told him. "I'd love a shower."

Edward and I shared a delicious meal and light conversation over dinner. He adoringly talked about his mother. It was obvious he loved her very much, and the two of them shared a closed relationship. He confirmed that it was his mother who made the burgundy quilt I had been sleeping with. After he mentioned her passing away, he changed the subject to his job. He informed me he drove an eighteen-wheeler for a living, hauling logs.

**X.x.X**

Edward laid my clean clothes on a small corner shelf in the bathroom along with clean towels and a washcloth. He then searched in a small, very cluttered linen closet behind the bathroom door where he found a new toothbrush and a half-used bottle of strawberry shampoo.

"You can use this." He handed me the shampoo and toothbrush. "My shampoo is for men… so… I don't think you wanna smell like Old Spice."

"Thanks." I smiled.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked.

"I think I'm good," I told him before he walked toward the door.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the living room." He shut the door behind him, giving me complete privacy.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging over the sink; I looked horrible. It was more than matted, stringy hair and a pale face. Despite the fact I had slept over twenty-four hours, my eyes looked unbelievably tired, and so damn lost.

Edward had been nothing but kind to me, but I still felt extremely out of place being in his home. I didn't want to impose upon anyone, and I definitely didn't want to be in another woman's home. I knew when the weather cleared, I had to get out of there. I had no idea where I'd go, but I couldn't stay there.

_Maybe a mental institution? Or a homeless shelter?_ I thought to myself. _Until I can figure out what comes next._

Two days prior, I thought I had it all figured out. I was ready to escape every haunting and devouring memory from my past. My past— a constant shadow hovering over me, every minute of every day, reminding me of how utterly alone I was in this world.

Mentally shattered into pieces, I closed my eyes, allowing the pleasant water to completely cascade over me. For a moment, I wished the water was powerful enough to cleanse the inside like it does the outside. My tears merged with the water when I started replaying the events of what happened on the bridge.

It wasn't like I simply woke up one day and decided I wanted to die. It had taken me months to work up the courage to reach that ultimate decision and to convince myself, I was better off dead. I was angry with God, with myself, and just life in general.

Deep down inside, I don't think anyone really wants to die; I think every human craves to be loved, accepted, and happy… deep down inside, underneath all the heartache and pain; underneath all the regret and shame.

The aftermath of surviving suicide— or in my case, being saved from suicide, an overwhelming amount of guilt and shame. I didn't consider myself unstable; I considered myself as someone who simply wanted to escape reality.

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**A/N**

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I truly appreciate feedback. 😊

I want to cover a couple things, the first being, scheduled updates— I really have no posting schedule. I was thinking, every week, or every few weeks. I actually write the chapters pretty quickly, it's the editing that seems to take forever, and I edit a lot. (Friendly reminder, I'm working solo) If I'm not satisfied with a chapter, it may take a little longer, and this time around, I'd rather get it right rather than get it quickly.

Secondly, to those who read the first version of 'Dying to Heal', I wanted to let you know, I'm revamping this entire storyline. In the last version, you may remember Edward taking Bella straight to the hospital, and then all of her time thereafter she spent with Dr. Webber (Angela); well, Dr. Webber is still going to have a role, just not as major as the previous role. Part of the reason I was dissatisfied with this story the last time around was because I didn't feel like I got Edward's character over quite like I wanted to. I wanted him to play a bigger role in Bella's healing journey. And I already like that she is in snowed-in with Edward at his cozy, warm cabin rather than being stuck in some cold institution, surrounded by white coats trying to probe her and get inside her head.

That's a few goals this time around.

Until Next Time,

Minerva


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